


Come Sail Away

by prowlish (valkyrie_fe)



Series: tf_speedwriting's Spam Weekend [9]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Angst, Community: tf_speedwriting, Disturbing Themes, Gen, Mild Gore, Tragedy, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-29
Updated: 2012-10-29
Packaged: 2017-11-17 07:09:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/548940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valkyrie_fe/pseuds/prowlish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Praxus falls, and there's only one to witness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come Sail Away

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt(s): #9: dead bodies

Bluestreak had long since shut his vocalizer off. What was the point of making noise -- even whimpers of pain -- when there was no one around to hear? Everyone was dead. He was surprised he wasn’t, too -- when Praxus is demolished on top of you, it’s hard to imagine surviving. But maybe he wouldn’t survive; he did have a slow leak somewhere. Probably from his crushed leg, or one of his battered sensor panels. So he’d slowly leak out, with no one to hear futile cries of help, or little moans of pain. So what was the use?  
  
Bluestreak considered deactivating his optics, too. Not even to avoid looking at the mangled corpses -- or the scattered frame parts -- surrounding him in the debris of the flattened library. The stench of drying oil and degrading energon bothered him the most out of it.   
  
Except for the fact that he kept having horrible impulse to talk to the dead face just an arm’s length away from his own. Just one more reason to shut off his vocalizer.   
  
Why wasn’t he dead? Bluestreak shuddered. This was worse than death, had to be. But as long as he stayed quiet, he wouldn’t try talking to the dead bot in front of him -- he didn’t want to hear it talk back and let him know he’d truly gone insane.  
  
Optics offlined, Bluestreak slowly tucked his head towards his chassis. His limbs trembled from pain and energon loss. Quietly, he let his systems idle, and prayed to be carried into the hands of Primus, like his fellow Praxians in this grave with him.

 


End file.
